Wɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ Hᴇʀ
by ohdarling-shes-onlyhuman
Summary: 'It makes him want to kiss her. It makes him want to push her up against the wall and just kiss her. Kiss those quivering lips. But he doesn't. He knows better than that. He knows better than to get mixed in with a girl like her - a girl like Autumn Bailey Evans.'-'Without her he's a nothing. He's worthless. He's a fucking hood nobody ever wanted.' He's really fucked up this time.


A smirk is dancing at the corner of his pale pink lips but he's still frowning. His eyes are still cold and hard, and a contorted look still belongs to his face. His teeth dangle around his bottom lip as he watches her turn a deep red color, yelling at the top of her lungs. He's boring his eyes right into her's, but she's not intimated, not at all. She's flinging her arms around, and her eyes are darting between him and the door.

He doesn't know what she's rambling on about, he doesn't care. He's lost in his own thoughts as she strains her vocal cords. Back when they first met, he'd fight back, he'd yell just as strong, and his arms would be flying around just like than hers. But they'd been acquaintances for over six months, and he knows the deal now.

The fact that he likes watching her get mad is even better for him. He likes the way her eyes fill with flames, and the way her voice thickens when she barks sentences at him. He likes the way her body flows like an ocean's waves when her arms go flailing. He likes how her hair falls all over in the wrong places so she had to push it back to continue her rant. But the thing he likes the most, is the way her lips quiver. Not as if she's going to cry, but as if in she's trying to hold back some sort of pleasure she can't quite contain, but with the tremble of a lip.

It makes him want to kiss her. It makes him want to push her up against the wall and just _kiss _her. Kiss those quivering lips. But he doesn't. He knows better than that. He knows better than to get mixed in with a girl like her - a girl like Autumn Bailey Evans.

Autumn is a year younger than him, but she's just as feisty. She has fiery rusty colored straight frizzy hair, and harsh, clean cut green eyes. Her lips are always the perfect shade of rosemary pink and her taste in music is just as good as her taste in men – horrible. He's one of the reasons this is true, him, Tim Shepard, and all the other hoods and greasers she clings onto. But although she'll never admit it, she loves them, and wouldn't trade them for the world. Autumn's a tough chick, but he's tougher. She's easier to read, but that doesn't mean she's easy. It's those grass eyes. She can't control the emotion that they show, like he can control his. It's a dead giveaway whatever she's feeling if you just look into her eyes. He likes her eyes. But he also likes booze. So it's nothing new really – for him to like something, I mean.

He likes a lot of things actually. A lot of things about Autumn. But he hates a lot of things as well. He hates the fuzz, adults, little kids, and the way Autumn gets when she cries. Oh gosh, he _hates _it when she cries. Not so much he hates to see her cry, just the way she does is does something real good to piss him off. If she's going to cry, he doesn't want anything to do with her.

His thoughts are interrupted when a small hand comes in contact with the back of his head. It's Autumn's. She's howling even _louder _now, and he thinks she's either going to make him go deaf, or break her voice box, maybe even both. He just wishes there was a way to shut her up. He's getting impatient now. She's been yelling at him for over fifteen minutes now, and he wants to know what he did to get her so upset. He should have been listening to her. He clenches his teeth together to keep him from mouthing off, he's hoping she's almost done talking, so he can walk off and ignore her for the rest of the week.

That's what they do. They fight, they ignore each other, they fight some more, they make up, it lasts a few days, then they fight again. It's a never ending cycle with them, but he doesn't mind. He sort of likes it. He knows the score, and he likes to get reactions out of her. She thinks he just likes to annoy the shit out of her. That's half of it. Actually that's practically all of it, and the fact that he really has nothing better to do. Plus, it keeps him from getting into trouble because he usually lets off his steam on her. Not by the way of fighting back, but by just being near her just makes him forget about shit for a while. Even if she is piling other stuff on him, it's enough to get him to calm down, and get hyped up at the same time. If he ever needs to get ready for a rumble, he just needs to see Autumn and he's set.

His name is being bellowed now, and he's starting to get a headache. He finally cracks, and decides to say something back.

"Would you just shut your trap already, I don't give a damn!"

That was probably the wrong thing for him to say, and he knows it, but he doesn't have time to dwell because the next thing he knows, there's a fist coming in contact with his nose, and he's surprised that she actually _hit _him. He grunts loudly and brings his hands up to his nose, and it's gushing blood. He curses under his breath and clacks his teeth.

"Nice one, Evans." He growls shoving her backwards, his blood prying off his fingers landing on her white and black checkered blouse. He's never liked that shirt on her anyway, and he's so tempted to grin, but he lets his frown stay in place. She squeals loudly and goes in for another hit but he catches her fist in his hand.

"Play target practice on someone else's face alright?" She can't believe how calm he's being about all of this, and how he acts like he hasn't heard a word she has just said, and she has so much anger building up inside of her that she just screams. Screams, and screams and screams, not saying any words, just making sounds. She picks up some glasses from the bar counter and smashes them to the floor. His eyes widen and he grabs tightly onto her wrist pushing her back, away from the counter. Buck's gonna kill him now. Stupid little broad.

"I hate you!" She cries out. Tears are welling in her eyes and he furrows his eyebrows. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" She's throwing her hands at his chest, and he almost laughs at how she thinks it's hurting him, but he keeps his mouth shut and wonders why the hell she's so angry she's actually going to start crying, and he wants to just sneak out of the bar and go home, because he can't deal with her right now. "I hate you so much!" She's sobbing now. He doesn't know why. These are the downs of not paying attention when Autumn picks a fight with him. He has no idea what the hell is going on, and he doesn't know how to react, a rare thing for him to come in contact with.

" – The hell?" He whispers under his breath holding onto her two upper arms to keep her from falling to her knees. The tears are streaming down her cheeks, her eyes are swelled shut, she's not breathing properly, and there are scary ass noises are coming from her, and he's just conflicted. "Autumn – Autumn – calm down!" He tells her. She bawls some more and pushes herself out of his grip.

"You make me sick!" She spits at him trying to catch her breath, she fails.

"What are you even talking about!?" He shouts. His frown has turned into an open oval, and his eyebrows were flipping out. The veins in his neck popped out and his head throbbed.

"The funeral you, jackass!" She tells him, finally falling to the ground. "You missed the fucking funeral." Her voice goes from six feet tall, to one foot short, and he barley hears her. "Do you ever listen?" The tears stop, and everything goes silent. He stands there above her, his mouth open, and she's lying on the floor staring back up at him. Her eyes are filled with pain, and it singes his heart. The funeral. Her brother's funeral. James. He died in Vietnam and he promised he'd go to the funeral with her, and 'meet' him. He mentally curses himself. He skipped the freakin' funeral to spend a night at Buck's with Sylvia. He's such a dick.

They stay like that for almost ten minutes until he falls down next to her and dares to speak, "Autumn…" She doesn't reply to him, she doesn't acknowledge his existence. She stands up off the ground, and walks out of the bar, leaving him all alone. He lets out a breath and his mouth is still parted. He can't believe himself. He really can't. He knows he shouldn't care, he acts like he doesn't, but he really just can't believe himself. He hates himself. He's mad at himself. Because he knows this time the cycle is over. Autumn and him aren't going to make up. He's screwed. He's fucked up. He hates himself. He needs a cigarette. He's probably got lung cancer. He doesn't give a shit. Without Autumn he's a nothing. He's worthless. He's a fucking hood nobody ever wanted.

He's Dallas Winston.


End file.
